Foolish Pride
by Venus-Diablo
Summary: OW/OC multi chap. Medea Malfoy only has one thing in common with her dark wizard family, stubborn pride. something she will have to overcome when she meets her old boyfriend Oliver Wood and realises she's made a huge mistake. Angst, rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Title – Foolish Pride

Author – Venus Diablo

Rating – T

Pairing – OW/OC

Summary – After Harry's defeat of Voldemort, Medea Malfoy runs into the last person in the world she ever wanted to see again, her ex-boyfriend Oliver Wood.

Disclaimer – Medea Malfoy and various Quidditch groupies belong to me. Everyone else is the intellectual property of J K Rowling. I make no money from writing this and no offence is intended to anyone.

**Chapter 1 – Remembrance**

It was over!

What must have been no more than a couple of seconds silence, lasting only as long as it took the dark lords body to fall to the ground, his snake like eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling of the great hall as the first hint of dawn light began to extinguish the brightness of the stars still clinging to the rapidly diminishing night sky, ended as a vast chorus of cheers erupted around me. He had done it, Harry had defeated Voldemort and we were free. Free to pursue our every hope and dream without fear of the black shadow that had faded for a short while but had never truly been absent for as long as I had lived.

The cost had been dear, I glanced down the hall to where the bodies of the fallen lay, my eyes fell first upon Remus and Dora, known to me until recently as professor Lupin and Tonks, lying side by side, and I knew that somewhere beyond the walls of the castle, an anxious woman was cradling her grandson in her arms, already mourning the death of her husband Ted and now awaiting her grandson's parents who would never return.

Not far down from them lay Fred Weasley, the twins had been in my year at Hogwarts, I remembered vividly that no matter how bad your day had been you could always rely upon the Weasley twins to take your mind off of your troubles, right up until the moment they had left Hogwarts in a blaze of fire works, student amazement and Umbridge's fury and humiliation. I had often chuckled to myself over the last couple of years whenever the memory had come to me of a bright firework lingering outside my dormitory window spelling POO in sparkling letters over and over until the sun came up, It was then my thoughts turned to George, it seemed impossible to me to imagine one without the other, truth be told I had never heard either finish so much a sentence alone, much less hold a full conversation. I wondered momentarily whether George would reopen the joke shop without Fred now that the danger was over, I supposed he would, at least I thought I would if I were him, but then I couldn't pretend to know what he or any of his family were feeling right now.

A little way beyond Fred laid the tiny broken body of Colin Creevy. He should never have been here of course, he was underage, but he had always been so in awe of Harry I can only assume he snuck back into the school through some sense of loyalty to the boy he had followed around for most of his academic career. I had often spent time with Colin, chatting about home and family, at least his family mine are long dead and gone, those that still lived were not the kind of wizards you were proud to be related to, unless of course you were in Slytherin. During Quidditch season, we would be found most evenings and weekends, in the stands next to the pitch, Colin taking endless photos of Harry, and myself, waiting, seemingly endlessly for my boyfriend to listen to his team mates complaints of exhaustion and call a halt to the practice, all the while trying to figure out what it was about the game that he loved so much, Colin, the quintessential Harry Potter fan, and myself the fifteen year old Quidditch widow.

It seemed wrong to me, unjust some how that this small, brave young boy was the only one in the hall not surrounded by friends or family to mourn him. Slowly I made my way over to where he lay peacefully on the hall floor and knelt beside him. He looked even younger in death than his short years; I felt tears burn my eyes and ruffled his hair whispering affectionately, "What did you have to come back here for hey?"

"Same reason we all did I suppose."

I heard the voice behind me and closed my eyes briefly, without turning to see who it was I replied quietly, "Hi Oliver, long time no see." I couldn't bring myself to face him, being forced to open those old wounds on top of everything else that had happened tonight seemed like a prospect best avoided. I continued stroking Colin's hair absently trying to remember him happy and smiling,

"He didn't suffer at all, in case you were wondering, I doubt he even saw it coming." Oliver's voice came from over my shoulder.

"Well that's something I guess." I didn't want to spend any more time in Oliver's presence than I had to but I couldn't help asking, "How did it happen? Do you know?" For the first time I turned to face him, he dropped his gaze and sighed deeply as if trying to decide whether I really wanted to know the details. He nodded softly and looked back up meeting my gaze, finally deciding that I wanted the truth, however painful.

He took a deep breath and tried to explain, "He was trying to duel with one of the death eaters, Yaxley I think one of the others called him, The kid was putting up a damn good fight too until that Lestrange woman hit him in the back with the killing curse," His voice became quiet, "I went to disarm her as soon as I saw what she was planning to do, but the distraction made a good target for the guy I thought I'd just stunned," He paused and swallowed deeply, his eyes seemed to glisten for a moment with what I thought may have been tears, but he soon composed himself and the moment of weakness passed, he continued but his voice was somewhat strangled, "I never even got the chance to aim a shot at her."

I couldn't help the concern edging its way into my voice, I told myself it was because of Colin, nothing to do with the implication that Oliver may have been hurt…yeah right!

"What happened?"

Oliver shrugged. "Not sure really, I'd never even heard of the curse before it came out of his mouth." Until that moment he had tried to sound nonchalant, but suddenly something dark crawled into his voice, a tone I had never heard from him before, it was magnetic and more than a little disturbing, "All I know is that it felt like my back had been ripped open and then seeing a pool of blood forming around me," he seemed to shake himself and the darkness was gone, "then I remember Longbottom's voice shouting me, and after that I remember the pain being bearable suddenly and Madam Pomfrey telling me to stay in the hall and rest. By the time I gave her the slip; You-know-who was making his little announcement about wanting Harry to go to the forest. I went out to help bring in the wounded and the dead, I saw Longbottom carrying Colin here over the grounds took him from him near the entrance and brought him in here. I Figured I owed him a bit of respect after failing him so badly tonight."

He looked so crestfallen even ashamed that I didn't doubt for a second that his regret was sincere, and much as a part of me wanted him to hurt, just as he had hurt me, I could not bring myself to let him suffer for this, "You didn't fail him Oliver," he looked at me doubtfully and I smiled sadly, "though you might owe him some respect for all those times you accused him of being a double agent spying for Slytherin and practically threw him out of your practise sessions."

Oliver's mood seemed to lighten a little and I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah well," he grinned sheepishly, "I suppose I was a little bit over zealous."

"Just a little bit, yeah." I chuckled softly. "I'm still amazed you ever let me watch, me being a Malfoy and all."

Oliver smiled a genuine heartfelt smile. The smile I remembered, the one that haunted my dreams and calmed and hurt in equal measure and for a second the reason I hated his presence so much slipped my mind, then he spoke, "I guess it just never occurred to me. I always just felt like I could trust you with anything."

The memories came flooding back and I stood up abruptly speaking sharply, "Yeah well, I always felt I could trust you too, at least one of us was right. Goodbye Oliver." With that I turned and walked towards the doors, trying to pretend I hadn't seen the shock and hurt on Oliver's face, and pretending that I couldn't hear him calling after me to wait. I wanted nothing more than to get to the edge of the grounds where I could apparate home and sleep. The whole night and its events seemed like an unreal blur, so many dead, including Voldemort himself.

True we were free to pursue our every hope and dream, but any hope or dreams I had ever had of a life with Oliver in it had died long ago and I refused to pursue them again.

It was over!


	2. Chapter 2

Title – Foolish Pride

Author – Venus Diablo

Rating – T

Pairing – OW/OC

Summary – After Harry's defeat of Voldemort, Medea Malfoy runs into the last person in the world she ever wanted to see again, her ex-boyfriend Oliver Wood.

Disclaimer – Medea Malfoy and various Quidditch groupies belong to me. Everyone else is the intellectual property of J K Rowling. I make no money from writing this and no offence is intended to anyone.

**Chapter 2 – Prophet and Loss**

I awoke from a fitful sleep, just as the sun was setting, The sounds of jubilant shouts and music from beyond my window, let me know in most certain terms that the previous nights events hadn't been a dream as I had half hoped half feared they had been.

My sleep had been frequently interrupted by a high cold voice; no prizes for guessing who that belonged to. I sighed. Mostly I had dreamt of what happened to poor Colin, a part of me wished I had never asked Oliver what had happened.

That thought caused a stab of emotional pain to run through me as the memory of the dream that had woken me came back, I was duelling a death eater, there was a flash of red light everything began to fade until all I could see was my killer stood over me their wand pointed at my heart, It was no death eater though, but Oliver. A flash of Green and my eyes had opened onto the new world, the Voldemort free world.

I longed to go and join the revellers in the streets outside but somehow my heart wasn't in it. Truth be told, since seeing Oliver again I had no idea where my heart was, all I did know was that it was a damn traitor. Oliver wood had smashed it into a thousand pieces and still it seemed it was eager to go back for more punishment. Well I wouldn't let it, there was no way I was ever risking that kind of pain and humiliation again.

I still remembered it as if it were yesterday. When we had sat together on the Hogwarts express on his final journey home from Hogwarts, he had promised to write while he was off having trials and attending the Quidditch world cup, even gave me his captains badge, told me it meant nearly as much to him as I did, lying bastard, it turned out I didn't really mean that much at all, though he made a good show of pretending whenever he apparated down to see me during the holidays.

Once I returned to Hogwarts I received at least two owls a week from him, saying how much he missed me and couldn't wait to see me next Hogsmeade weekend. Then the Thursday before we were due to meet in the village the article appeared in the gossip column of the prophet. A lovely little piece about Puddlemere's up and coming new star Oliver Wood out on the town with his girlfriend it even had a picture of them with their tongues stuck down each others throat. Upon seeing it I ran from the great hall, partly to avoid being seen crying, and partly to avoid throwing up on anyone's breakfast. As soon as Lunch time rolled around I sent an owl to Oliver, there was no letter in the envelope, I didn't know what to say, so I simply returned his captains badge, and tried to forget he had ever existed, no easy task when your least favourite cousin and the rest of his Slytherin house mates seem to revel in reminding you that you've been traded in for a more glamorous model.

In the weeks that followed Oliver had sent numerous owls, Katie frequently tried to convince me to read his letters and give him the chance to explain, but I never did. If it had been just a written piece then maybe I could have kidded myself that it was a great pile of dragon dung, but even Katie had to admit that there couldn't be any explanation for the photo other than the obvious. After a while he got the message and stopped writing.

In a way I suppose the Prophet did me a favour, the weekend we were supposed to meet was valentines, and the thing I'd decided to give him was… well lets just say I could never give the same thing to anyone else and it wasn't a present I could have ever gotten back. If the article had come out just a few days later it could have been a lot worse. As it was I resolved to forget him, if he wanted to spend his time with Quidditch groupies who's only real interest in him was how many times they could get their names and photo's in the Prophet, it was his loss. I would just have to get over him, but I couldn't, and as much as I hate to admit it, when I saw him again last night I realised I never have.

This was ridiculous; I reasoned with myself we had had no contact with each other for almost four years until last night, I had sometimes come close to running into him in Diagon Alley, but luckily there was always an abundance of shops to duck into to avoid him, anywhere other than quality Quidditch supplies was always a fairly safe bet. And then there were the increasingly frequent articles in the prophets gossip pages, normally about Oliver being seen somewhere or another with some fame hungry socialite who was beauty charmed up to the eye balls (usually, I noted charmed the same cornflower blue colour) Their hair almost always charmed the same pale blonde I had been stuck with until I mastered the art of making the serum that would turn it black when I was 12 years old. I didn't understand why it was such a desirable shade personally, I had always felt that my natural hair was something to be ashamed of, I might as well just have had the fact that I was a Malfoy tattooed across my fore head, anything that associated me with my dark wizard relatives always made me queasy. For years I had tried to convince myself that it was the definite Malfoy-ish quality these women had that made me dislike them so much and not the fact that they were with Oliver, until last night I had made self deception into an art form.

I wandered into my small bathroom and gazed into the mirror, the charm I had placed on my hair yesterday had worn off, Staring back at me my reflection mimicked my scowl at the white blonde curtain of hair that fell across my shoulders, I looked disturbingly like aunt Narcissa.

"Bit off a crappy genetic break wasn't it?" My mirror questioned. I rolled my eyes in response, "oh by the way," the mirror continued, "you're out of blackening serum, I'm afraid you're going to have to leave the house like that."

Bloody marvellous, I thought. I quickly brushed my teeth, washed, and pulled my hair back into a tight pony tail, at least that way I didn't have to look at it. Dressing in my least favourite bottle green robes (the only thing I had clean at the moment) I grabbed my bag, threw my wand into it and apparated to Diagon Alley.

A/N: I already have 8 chapters of this written out, I know Oliver seems like a bit of a tosser right now, but all will become clear eventually I promise. Please leave reviews if you would like to read more, concrit welcome, flames always seemed kind of pointless to me but if you really feel the need to post them go ahead, I've got a thick skin ;)

Venus Diablo


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